<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>thought gasoline was on my clothes by rosewitchx</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27058177">thought gasoline was on my clothes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewitchx/pseuds/rosewitchx'>rosewitchx</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Betrayal, Dream Smp, Execution, Gen, Mild Gore, Short, they can respawn anyway, they dont really die</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:00:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>356</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27058177</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewitchx/pseuds/rosewitchx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tubbo receives praise. Techno takes the shot. </p>
<p>Or, the execution of a traitor.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>thought gasoline was on my clothes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>im so depressed i couldnt get schlatt merch. but at least we have angst<br/>title: arsonist’s lullabye - hozier</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m proud of you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Schlatt had said. Now, hands digging into his concrete prison, eyes burning themselves into Technoblade’s, he understands that the President had known about his betrayal, even as he said those words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Techno,” he whispers. “Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Quackity attempts to appease Schlatt, to no avail. Techno doesn’t move. His crossbow is aimed straight at him, the fireworks within ready to be lit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am under mild-to-severe peer pressure here,” Techno admits, and his voice wavers just a little. But Tubbo knows what is about to happen; Schlatt and Techno </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>go back a long way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Techno,” he still pleads once more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The world seems too loud around them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” is the response. “I’ll make it as painless as possible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Techno doesn’t look at him as he fires. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He is used to the carnage. He is the Champion of the God, the Ultimate Warrior, the Death from Above. He is the Blade, the Axe, the Bow; the jury and executioner. He might have deluded himself about said truth for a while, with potatoes and little brothers and revolution, but there’s no point in denying it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knows what he is. Everyone else knows, too. That’s the only reason he was ever invited along to this pointless charade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He flies through the sky, led forward by his trident, and laughs. He leaves behind Schlatt, Alex, and Tubbo, bloodied bits on the stage, lost between yellow concrete and black stone. He leaves behind Manburg, and all the loyal, stupid citizens that are already respawning. It doesn’t matter. He’s going, now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The massacre appeases the God for the time being. It’s the first night in so many where the Voice doesn’t torment him, but he still can’t fall asleep anyway. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m proud of you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Schlatt had said, leading him to the firing squad. He’d told him so, many, many times. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished, </span>
  </em>
  <span>walking him to the stage, knowing Tubbo would not have the will to finish it all, knowing he had been betraying Manburg (and him) all along. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so proud of you, kid. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Had he meant it, even after everything?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>